


Never Alone

by holmeswatson221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BAMF John, Emotional Sherlock, Eventual Johnlock, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Minor Character Death Mentioned, No Mary in my world, Post-Reichenbach, Smut, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmeswatson221B/pseuds/holmeswatson221B
Summary: Sherlock returns from the dead to find John is working for Mycroft now and Sherlock can't know where he is. John's return turns everything Sherlock thought he knew around. Eventual Johnlock. I'll add tags and characters as they appear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First Chapter is kinda short. Sorry.

Two years after faking his death to save those who mattered most to him, Sherlock Holmes stood in his brother’s office completely in denial of what was being said to him. 

“What do you mean he is gone, Mycroft? You're the British Government, find John Watson!!” 

“Brother, I know precisely where Dr. Watson is. However, that information is classified and you are not allowed to know. You have no idea what happened while you were away.” 

“Then enlighten me.” Growled the detective. 

“Dr. Watson went to a very dark place after you died, Sherlock. He didn’t leave Baker Street for months. Lost his job at the clinic, stopped talking to everyone, barely uttered even a word to Mrs Hudson. Then one day, he came out of hiding. We all thought he had come around finally but we were wrong. He was a different man then. He became a vigilante of sorts. Any criminal he helped apprehend for the Yard was either beaten within an inch of his life or simply killed. Not to mention the havoc he raised if he stumbled upon a criminal act before the Yard could intervene. You can imagine the paperwork.” Mycroft looked annoyed, Sherlock looked ill. 

“We couldn’t let him carry on, Sherlock. You realize that. So we had a choice; we could incarcerate him for all the liberties he took or we could recruit him. Dr. Watson is now an agent with MI6. He was thrilled. He is currently undercover abroad on a mission. I don’t know if I can even get a message to him at this point. I don’t know the duration of the operation either. He has been gone several months already. Trying to communicate to him that you are alive could jeopardize his safety and the success of the mission.” 

Sherlock's face fell. What had he done to the cuddly, jumper wearing doctor? His actions he knew would hurt the doctor but in the end it was to save him. Sherlock raised his steely   
eyes to meet Mycroft's. "You bring John Watson home, Mycroft. You bring him home alive." 

"Of course, brother mine." 

With barely a nod, Sherlock turned, and walked out into the streets of London.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was stomping around a crime scene. Even though he had made his spectacular return to life and was back at the work, he was not the same Sherlock. He barely said a word to anyone except to cut them down. He was more harsh than before. When people asked about John, he become downright vile. It had been 3 weeks since he had been home and despite multiple requests for information, Mycroft wouldn't tell him of the status of bringing John back from wherever he was. He was examining the body of a renowned barrister when he heard a commotion near the police tape. 

A man clad in leather on a motorbike pulled up to the crime scene. He climbed off the bike and walked up to the tape. Detective Inspector Lestrade intercepted the man as he was trying to walk onto the crime scene. His identity completely obscured by the outfit he wore and his helmet. 

"Hey, mate. This is a crime scene. You can't just walk on in if you please." 

The man turned his head and pulled off his helmet, offering a well known crooked smile to the DI. "It's practically my job, Greg." 

"Jesus, Watson! Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months. I was worried Mycroft might have done you in." 

"Nah, he couldn't take me anyway. Been helping the British Government actually with a few things." John winked at Greg but offered no further information. 

"When we have pints, you can tell me all the cloak and dagger stuff. Come on then, he's been in a right state since he got back and you've been gone. Hey, Sherlock, someone here for ya!" 

Sherlock stood with an insult for the DI ready to go but it died on his lips when he saw who was with Lestrade. He ran his eyes over John. Dressed from head to toe in leather for protection but it didn't hide that the good doctor had bulked up a bit while away. John's face had become unreadable, the friendly smile he had for Lestrade had faded away when he looked at Sherlock. 

"John." 

"Have you solved this then?" John spoke very flatly, giving nothing away. 

Sherlock looked confused. Solved what? John had only just gotten back. John gestured at the crime scene behind the consulting detective. 

"Oh, yes. It was his secretary. She was sleeping with him to get her boyfriend a promotion but he got passed over again. She drugged his coffee and brought him out here to kill him. You'll find the murder weapon in the back of the victim's car." Sherlock spoke quickly, clearly directed at the DI but eyes locked on John the whole time. 

"Come on then." John started to walk away, clearly expecting the lanky detective to follow him. He waved to Greg and went to his motorbike. He tossed a spare helmet to Sherlock. They got on the bike and off they went. Back to Baker Street. A lot needed to be said between the men and they were not going to have it out in the middle of a crime scene with the whole yard watching. 

After pulling up in front of 221B Baker Street, John locked the bike, and opened the door. Sherlock remained unnaturally quiet. He didn't know what to expect when he saw his blogger again, but this wasn't it. Mrs Hudson met them in the hallway. 

"Oh John, thank God. I've been worried sick! Are you alright?" She began fretting over the doctor. 

"I'm fine, Mrs Hudson. I've missed you, too. My mission just took a bit longer than expected." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek by way of greeting. 

"Both my boys home at last. You two have things to talk about. Give a yell if you want some tea." She patted both their cheeks and went back into her flat. 

The two men climbed the familiar 17 steps up to their flat. Still not a word said between then as John pushed open the door, removed his jacket, and walked into their sitting room as if he had been there all along. Sherlock moved in a trance, removing his Belstaff and scarf, his eyes never leaving John.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Baker Street, the boys finally start to face what's happened the past 2 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an intense conversation for the guys so I'm breaking it up over 2 chapters.

Sherlock found himself in unfamiliar territory. He expected more of a reaction, positive or negative, from his flatmate when he learned Sherlock was alive. He didn't know how to respond to the seeming lack of response. Maybe he wasn't as affected as Sherlock believed him to be. He tried to read John but his face remained a blank slate. The men stood staring at each other, wondering if the other would start this conversation. Finally, it was Sherlock who couldn't handle the silence any longer. 

"John. I don't know how to begin. I don't know what Mycroft told you, as you didn't seem that shocked to find I was alive. I'm so sorry." 

"Sherlock, I think I know more than you would think. What did Mycroft tell you when you got back?" 

"That you had gone rogue, attacked and killed several suspects when working with the yard. And that you intervened in a crime in progress and used excessive force before Lestrade arrived. They offered you a position in MI6 in lieu of imprisonment. John, I'm sorry. I never dreamed any of this would happen." 

John shook his head. "Mycroft always has to make everything more dramatic than it was. When I started working with the yard again without you, I managed to get myself in a few more tight spots than I would've had you been there. Yes, that meant I had to use my own special skills to save my own skin but everything was done in self defense. And I suppose he didn't tell you that the crime I broke up was some arsehole attempting to rape a woman. So yeah, that's on me. I was offered the position with MI6 for a very specific mission." 

Sherlock sat on the couch, trying to process everything John had told him. John's explanation certainly lined up with the man he knew much more than the story Mycroft had painted. It didn't remove the guilt Sherlock felt for having left John so vulnerable in his absence. John came and sat next to the detective. 

"Sherlock, Mycroft told me what happened on that rooftop. I know why you had to jump. And I know you well enough to know why you thought you couldn't risk telling me what was happening. Thank you, Sherlock. I know you did all of this to save me, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson. I would be lying if at first I wasn't angry and heartbroken, but I've had a long time to think about all of it." 

Sherlock looked at John as if he were some alien being. How, after everything he had put this man through, could John forgive him? Even though he understood the words his blogger was saying, he still couldn't seem to believe him. He didn't realize how much time had passed of him just staring at John when he heard his friend chuckle and say, "Alright, getting a bit creepy now, Sherlock. I'm going to make some tea." 

John stood in the kitchen and went about making tea like he had thousands of times before. He was comforted by the routine he hadn't been able to do for the last two years. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he let himself feel the relief of seeing his best friend again. He knew it was a shock to Sherlock that he knew what he did. But it was obvious Mycroft told him nothing of John's own mission for MI6, not that he thought the elder Holmes would be that considerate to his brother regardless of what Sherlock was cleared to be told. He didn't know how Sherlock would react to that. But there was nothing for it, he would tell Sherlock everything despite Mycroft's objections and they would have to deal with it. When the tea had brewed, he brought the cups and a package of jammie dodgers back to the sitting room, thinking Sherlock might need something sweet before he went into shock. 

Sherlock took the cup of tea offered to him gratefully. He had honestly missed John's tea while he was gone. John knew exactly how to make his tea perfectly. Even while mulling over everything that had happened, the simple act of John making him a cup of tea was surprisingly settling to the detective. He was never one for sentiment but it felt homey. He had actually realized in his time away and even since he had been back without John, that maybe he wasn't as immune to sentiment and caring as he had thought. 

Now that Sherlock was looking less peaky, John cleared his throat and looked at his friend with an odd intensity in his eyes. "Sherlock, did Mycroft tell you anything about why I was asked to work for MI6?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has John been up too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time away but I wanted to come back to this story. 
> 
> Season 4 is breaking my heart. I don't know about anyone else. My God! I won't say anything else in case some haven't caught up yet. The Final Problem on Sunday night.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, he just said you were undercover abroad. Dispite badgering him, he wouldn't tell me anything more. Classified apparently."

John shook his head. Bloody Mycroft. "I have a lot to tell and I know you are going to have questions so bear with me, yeah?" Sherlock looked confused and intrigued, he offered a small nod even though he knew he would still interrupt with questions.   
John ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he began speaking (Sherlock never realized how much he missed these little ticks of John's before). "After the nonesense with the Yard, Mycroft dragged me to his office. He told me that I was to be offered a position with MI6 for an extremely important mission. One only I could do apparently, but that meant he needed to explain things to me first. That's when he told me you were alive and everything that happened between you and Moriarty. I was relieved, angry, and in total shock. Then he told me what my mission was." John paused for a moment and looked Sherlock right in the eye. "My mission was to protect you while you worked to take down Moriarty's network."

Sherlock looked at John incrediously. "Why would Mycroft do that? I did everything I did to keep you safe!"

"I know. And you did keep me safe. You stopped that sniper from taking me out. But, Mycroft did have a point. We've worked together, side by side, chasing and taking out criminals for years. You needed someone who knew how you worked to have your back, Sherlock. It was my way to repay you for saving my life.” John gave Sherlock a meaningful look. “It was my chance to make sure you came back to me. I know you may have felt alone out there, but you never were.”  
Sherlock looked at John with wide eyes for a moment before rubbing his hands over his face. The great detective was speechless. John continued.

“There were times I had to come back to London. We couldn’t let them know that I knew where you were. So for some of the time between your assignments, I was here. Of course, we let it out I had been recruited into MI6, but I had a body double who would go on missions as me and since it as basically just lackeys following me when I travelled, no one knew the difference when I left. But while I was supposed to be in London, there were higher level baddies watching me so I knew I had to at least make an appearance. The biggest problem was when you were captured in Serbia. Mycroft… he wouldn’t let me be on the team that got you out of there. I nearly ripped his head off. I knew,” John paused, he head fell into his hands. He couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice. “I knew you would be tortured before any of us could get to you. But Mycroft said that I needed to be the one to act on the information you had gathered. It was critical to ending all of this. I made him promise to get you out alive and bring you home. I went after the last piece of the puzzle. I prayed he made good on his promise but I didn’t know until after I finished that you had been rescued and were mostly healed, back home.”

“You went after Moran? John, that was a suicide mission!”

“Not really. I’m here aren’t I? It was a bit like an alternate universe though. You took out the evil you, only seemed fitting I took out the evil me.” John flashed him a big smile and started laughing. Sherlock gapped at him for a moment and then gave into the laughter. They had tears in their eyes and could barely catch their breath by the time they stopped. 

“I don’t suppose you are going to tell me what happened when you got to Moran?”

John smiled and shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m starving and I’m sure you haven’t eaten. Once I got back to London, I had a debriefing with Mycrof. Once I knew you were alive and at a crime scene, I came straight away. Let’s order a take away and we can sort the rest of this another time. The important thing is, we’re both here, together. Yeah?”

Sherlock looked for a moment like he might object, but then thought the better of it. “Of course, John. I’m glad we are both back as well.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small little spark of Johnlock starting. Well, in true Baker Street Boys fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I haven't abandoned this fic!!
> 
> Life got crazier than even I expected with the arrival of baby girl #2 in February. So every spare moment has been catching up on sleep. LOL
> 
> I'm sorry for the short chapter and I promise I am working on chapter 6. I do really still love this fic and plan on continuing it. I hope to be updating more regularly now that our new normal is starting to sort itself out.

As if nothing had changed, Sherlock got the plates and started the kettle while John got the takeaway at the door. John laid out box after box of chinese food, having ordered all their favorites. They quickly filled their plates and sat at the table. They shared a smile, this felt right. Another of a thousand moments they took for granted for so long. Another moment they never thought they would have again. 

"I have a question, John." 

"If it's about Moran, you can just hold it. I don't want to talk about him tonight." A dark look flitted across John's face but Sherlock didn't ask after it. 

"Not about him. When you got to the crime scene, you knew I was alive, why did you not react to me at all? I thought you were going to rip my head off." 

"I was overwhelmed with relief at seeing you, Sherlock. Mycroft told me you were alive but didn't say anything else. Just sent me off to the crime scene. I didn't know what condition you would be in. Alive is just breathing. You could have been missing a limb or something. I knew you would be tortured in Serbia, I just didn't know how. The relief on seeing you standing there as if you had never been gone was, quite frankly, shocking. And, of course, I've been protecting you from Moriarty's men for so long, I was afraid that someone may still be watching. I didn't know what reaction would set them off." John dropped his head and rubbed his hands over his face. "I know they are gone, but it's been years. Years, Sherlock, of making sure you would come back home, back to me. It's hard to believe that it's finally over." 

Sherlock reached out and touched John's arm. "I know, John. I had no idea it would take so long or that Moriarty's network was so vast. I knew it would be large but I honestly thought a couple of months, half a year on the outside. The deeper I went in, the more I realized how involved he was with almost every level of crime all over the world. I wish I could have worked faster, especially knowing you were at risk that whole time. I just wanted you safe, John. That's why I left. So you wouldn't have to look over your shoulder and worry about being kidnapped to be used against me again." 

John instinctively grabbed Sherlock's arm back. "I'm glad we can finally put that bastard Moriarty behind us. He's been hanging over our heads for far too long. We won though, in the end. We're back at Baker Street, where we belong. We can pick up life where we left off without having to worry that the next shoe is about to drop."

The emotion in the room threatened to overwhelm them. They never spoke about how important each was to the other. Each in his own way convinced the other could never feel the same. Their eyes met for just a moment. Each felt as though they had found the calm in the storm that had been raging for the past two years. Regardless of the other thing that hung unspoken between them, no fact was more true than John Watson was nothing without Sherlock Holmes and that Sherlock Holmes could not live without John Watson. 

The air around them almost grew heavier as both were unsure but felt something shift between them. However, the moment was interrupted by their beloved and ever so timely not-your-housekeeper landlady bearing a tray of delicious smelling treats. Both men took a deep breath before offering genuinely happy smiles to Mrs. Hudson.

"I didn't hear any yelling so I thought it might be safe to bring up some welcome home treats to my boys." She looked between the two men. "Oh dear. Am I interrupting something terribly important?"

John stifled a giggle. Sherlock stood and offered Mrs. Hudson a kiss on the cheek. "No, Mrs. Hudson. Nothing we can't sort out later."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I didn't abandon this fic! As always real life just keeps getting in the way. 
> 
> I have some wonderful ideas on this story so I hope you'll stick with me while I try to get this completed. I have 2 chapters to upload tonight and will be working on more with hopefully more conistancy. 
> 
> Kudos and comments keep me going!!!

Mrs. Hudson brought an assortment of cakes and cookies as well as a pot of tea up to 221B. She was so happy to have her boys back home. As she walked into the flat, even she could feel the tension building there. She had no idea at that time what sort of tension. Of course she knew how the men felt for each other, even if they were too blind to see it for themselves but she also knew that both of their tempers could run hot. She wasn’t sure if she was diffusing the situation or helping it along by walking in. Nonetheless, she brought the tray over the the kitchen table and began doling out the goodies before they could ask her to leave.

“Oh boys!! I’m so happy to have you both back home where you belong. I knew you’d bring him home, John.”

“Uhhh… Mrs. Hudson?” John looked concerned. No one knew about his mission except Mycroft and MI6. He was immediately worried he had somehow been compromised.

“Please, John! I knew if there was any way Sherlock was alive, it would be you who had to bring him back. I’m not stupid. That fellow that would stay over sometimes who looked a lot like you, Mycroft popping round as often as he did. Give me some credit!”

Sherlock chuckled and gave Mrs. Hudson a kiss on the cheek. “Can’t get anything passed you, can we, Hudders?”

Mrs. Hudson patted him on the cheek and took her seat at the table. They took turns sharing stories of the time Sherlock was away, keeping them as light and humorous as possible. It wasn’t until Mrs. Hudson started rubbing her hip, they realized how late into the evening it had gotten. 

“I’m afraid it’s time for my soother and bed for me, boys. I’ll sleep much better knowing that you are both here and safe.” She received a kiss on the cheek from each of them as they bade her goodnight before she went back down to her flat.

Sherlock and John were once again alone in the flat. There was almost an awkward silence as each tried to figure out how to proceed. John quickly tidied up the kitchen table while Sherlock put the dishes in the sink.

Finally John spoke, “I guess it’s off to bed with me as well. Good night, Sherlock.” He smiled at Sherlock while walking towards the door of the kitchen.

“Good night, John.”

John stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the railing, and looked back. “I’m really glad you are back, Sherlock. I have missed you.”

Sherlock smiled, “I missed you as well. I am likewise happy you are back home and safe.”  
John smiled and then climbed the stairs to his room and readied himself for bed.  
Sherlock watched John go upstairs and then went around the flat turning off the lights before heading to his own room. There was so much more that needed to be said between the two, but it could wait. They were both back at 221B, safe, and alive. They couldn’t ask for much more that this moment.


	7. Chapter 7

It was 2:45am by John’s clock when he woke from a nightmare. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t awoken by nightmares of Sherlock’s death. This one was from the war, the day he was shot. Afghanistan still took it’s share of his peace. He sat with his head in his hands on the side of the bed. He was just about to get up to get a glass of water when he heard it.

“JOHN!!!!”

Sherlock’s voice screaming his name in what sounded like utter terror. John was on his feet with his Sig in his hand before he realized it. He moved as quietly as he was able to his door to listen. It sounded like Sherlock was in his bedroom but there was no way of knowing if there were intruders throughout the flat or just in Sherlock’s room.

Swiftly and silently, John went downstairs and swept the sitting room and the kitchen quickly for any enemies. He stepped cautiously down the hall, weary of the weak floorboards less they gave away his position. 

“JOHN!!!! NO!! PLEASE!!!!” 

‘To hell with it,’ was the last thought John had as he burst, gun raised into Sherlock’s bedroom. He did a quick sweep of the room but Sherlock was alone. He looked over at the bed and saw Sherlock was clearly having a nightmare of his own. His arms trying to reach out but seemed stuck to his side. 

John called out “Sherlock!!! Sherlock, wake up!!! Sherlock!!! I’m here, wake up!!!” After several moments, Sherlock stopped thrashing and seemed to be waking up. John moved closer to the bed. “Sherlock, it’s ok. I’m here.” He spoke quieter, not wanting to alarm Sherlock but still letting him know that he wasn’t alone. Sherlock’s eyes opened and he looked at John and blinked rapidly. “John?” His voice was hoarse from yelling and rough with sleep. “John. You’re really here? You’re alright?”

“I’m here, Sherlock. It’s ok. We’re both back at Baker Street.” John sat on the edge of the bed and gently touched Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock reached out and wrapped his hand on John’s wrist. Sherlock took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled, trying to regain some composure. Truthfully, the relief of seeing John alive and well, not torn to shreds like he had been in his dream was overwhelming the detective and he was doing his level best not to weep with joy at the sight of the doctor.

After a few moments of silence, John cleared his throat. “Are you ok?” Sherlock nodded. “Just a nightmare.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

Sherlock shook his head. It all felt too raw and he was slightly embarrassed that his brain would continue to play these tricks on him now that he knew John was alive and well. He was a man of logic and still these terrible images haunted him. He knew he would tell John about them at some point, just not now.

“How about I put on some tea? We can watch some crap telly until we are ready to go back to bed?”

“Thank you. That sounds good. I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“I was awake anyway.”

Sherlock looked confused.

“You aren’t the only one with nightmares, Sherlock. Tonight, I was being shot in Afghanistan just before I heard you.” John set his mouth in a grim straight line. “The war still gets it’s share but for the better part of the last 2 years, when I’ve been able to sleep, I’ve had to watch you fall over and over again. Only you didn’t come back then.”

“I’m sorry, John.” Sherlock looked at him meaningfully. “Even knowing everything that transpired after that, I’ll never not be sorry you had to witness that moment and for any length of time believed that I willingly left you.”

“I know. And it really is ok. We’re ok. Let’s go get that cuppa.” John stood, walking to the door. He turned back, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Gotta lock my gun back up. I thought someone broke in and was killing you.” He gave his signature crooked smile before heading to his room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has to change for these guys. John takes the first tiptoe towards deepening their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this fic isn't abandoned, I'm just slow. Thanks for sticking with me!

After returning his gun to it’s proper place in his nightstand drawer, John joined Sherlock downstairs where he had already turned the kettle on for tea. As promised, John made them a cup of tea and managed to find a rerun of Monty Python and the Holy Grail playing. As they mindlessly watched King Arthur’s crusade, they began to doze off again, leaning against each other on the couch.

And this is how things went for about a week after John’s return home. Every night, one or the other would wake to screaming. Wake the other and talk. Some nights, everyone was able to return to bed, others they fell asleep on the couch. Finally after the 8th night of this happening, John had had enough.

“Sherlock. This has to stop. We can’t keep running to each other every time we have a bad dream. Neither of us has had a good night’s sleep in a week.”

Sherlock looked briefly hurt before training his face to the blank mask he usually wore. “Ok, John. You can just ignore me and I will endeavor to not run to your side but I can’t promise.”

“What? No! Sherlock, I wasn’t clear. We need to stop running to each other. Think we can just bunk together? I know it might be a little weird but let’s save ourselves the commute in the wee hours of the morning at least.” John offered up a shy smile at Sherlock. “I promise, no funny business.”

Sherlock mulled over John’s offer. The tension between them still lingered and they had done nothing to talk about it. He wondered if they ever would. It could mean trouble but Sherlock was never one to shy away from taking a risk, well unless it involved potentially losing John again. This was a very calculated risk as least. John suggested it so Sherlock can hardly be blamed if there were any ill feelings as a result. “I think that’s a valid solution. I wouldn’t be able to ignore you anyway. I propose my room as I have a larger bed. Two of us squeezing into your hobbit sized bed seems like it would be uncomfortable.”

“Agreed. Wouldn’t want your feet to dangle off the bed every night.” John chuckled as he began putting his coat on. “Off to the shops. We need milk. Anything else?”

“Jammy dodgers, chicken livers, marrow bone, human kidney.”

“I can’t get a human kidney at Tesco, Sherlock.”

“Ugh, fine, go to Bart’s then. Molly will give you one.”

“Go get your own kidney if you need it that badly, I’ll get the rest. Bye, Sherlock.”

*******************************  
After John left the flat, Sherlock couldn’t help but smirk. He didn’t know how to address the clear shift in their relationship or how to nudge it along the way he wanted but he could at least put forth some effort for his army doctor. He went to his room and stripped his bed and changed the sheets. It took a little convincing to get Mrs. Hudson to wash his duvet, but she eventually agreed. He ran the Hoover and did a quick wipe down of the dresser and nightstand, tossing a few samples that may have been laying about well past their prime. He opened the windows to air out the odor. It may not be as noticeable in the middle of the night but John would likely be offended by the smells when he was actually trying to fall asleep in the room. Might as well make his room as welcoming as possible. John appreciated a clean space. He knew John’s own bedroom was sparse but very clean and organized. Sherlock wanted to accept this change as something more than what it was, but he would have to be subtle to encourage this shift along. Being as considerate to John as he could without going completely overboard was the first step. 

*******************************  
As John hurried down the street towards Tesco, he was relieved at how well Sherlock took the suggestion. He knew that there was some unspoken thing between them and that this could complicate that but he wanted to test his theory. That really they just needed to be in some reasonable proximity to each other to be able to move past these nightmares. Or at least, not have to go very far when they did have them. John smiled to himself thinking of finally being able to wrap his arms around his detective and truly call him his detective. He didn’t know how to make that leap but at least this would serve as a jumping off point. At least that’s what he hoped. 

John shopped in auto-pilot as he grabbed the food items they needed. Then it occurred to him, he didn’t have any decent pajamas to wear. Most of his pajamas were older than he cared to admit and had holes or were threadbare in way too many places. Not a big problem when he is sleeping alone but if he is on some level trying to woo Sherlock, he could at least have decent looking sleepwear. He knew it wasn’t posh as Sherlock’s wardrobe but he picked up a few pair of pajama bottoms from Tesco as well as a set that came with a grey and black striped shirt that put him to mind of his favorite striped jumper. Shopping accomplished, he headed back to the flat. He had even remembered to get Sherlock’s sodding marrowbone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we come to what happened with Moran.

Later that evening, after a dinner of Thai, John and Sherlock sat in their respective chairs relaxing. John nursing a tumbler of whiskey and Sherlock a glass of red wine. They were sitting just enjoying the quiet.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice was soft, almost childlike.

“Yes?”

“It’s been over a week. I’ve been trying very hard to be patient. Can you please tell me what happened with Moran?”

“I didn’t suppose you were just going to take my word he had been taken care of without actually having to hear the whole story.” John chuckled darkly. Sherlock shook his head.

“Alright. After you were taken in Serbia, I moved on with a small team from MI6 to Romania to find Moran. All of the information that Mycroft translated that you collected said that Moran was truly the last piece of the puzzle. Once we got him out of the way, we could end this all. There was no one left to take over an operation the size of Moriarty’s. Once we arrived at the mansion he was using as his headquarters. Honestly, a mansion, it was ridiculous. Anyway. Once we were able to breach the security, it was actually pretty simple to get to Moran. The security was impressive but we were planning for more so it was easy on us. I got to Moran’s inner office and got trapped in there with him. It was always my intention to be the one to take him out. He was an impressive fighter, all his years in the military doing covert ops certainly served him well, but not well enough. I shot him in the chest, twice. I thought it was all over but he did get one last shot off as he was falling. I swear, my left shoulder has a bloody target on it.” John pulled his jumper off and pulled the neck of his vest over to show the angry red wound still healing just overlapping the starburst scar that brought him home from Afghanistan. 

Sherlock’s face turned ashen when he saw John’s new scar. He reached out and gingerly touched the spot on his arm, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears began to well in his eyes as he looked back up at John’s face.

John put his hand over Sherlock’s on his shoulder. “Don’t, Sherlock. This was nothing. The scar tissue from the old wound prevented this one from being any worse. We survived this whole ordeal with just a few more scars but we survived to come back to each other. That’s all that matters. Moriarty and Moran are gone for good. They can’t try to come between us anymore.”

Sherlock was not able to speak but nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break. He never meant for John to get hurt again. He was trying his best to make sure that John was safe. He knew that the army captain was right, a few more scars and they are finally as safe as they can be in the life they lead. The guilt weighed heavily on him regardless. He leaned back in his chair, took a large gulp of wine, and switched his focus to the fire. He just couldn’t look at his best friend right now. He was overcome with the emotions rolling over him and he didn’t know where to begin. The detective retreated into his mind palace to try to organize all the information that he had just taken in. 

John smiled sadly as he watched Sherlock retreat. He knew Sherlock was feeling guilty about everything, he shouldn’t in John’s opinion but he couldn’t make Sherlock see that. He would wait for him to come back to him. He’s waited through this process many times. John finished his whiskey and brought his glass to the kitchen. John settled back in his chair, picking up the book he had been reading. 

Sometime later, when Sherlock finally refocused on the room, he saw that John had fallen asleep in his chair, a book had fallen to the floor by his feet. Sherlock’s heart warmed looking at the doctor who had no doubt tried to keep himself awake. Sherlock stood, collected some pajamas from John’s bedroom before waking him. 

“John? Come along. It’s time for bed. I’ve gotten you some pajamas. Let’s go.” Sherlock gently touched John’s arm to rouse him. 

“Mmmmm.” Came John’s sleepy reply. He stood, took the clothes Sherlock was holding out to him, and went to the bathroom. 

Sherlock put out the fire, brought his own glass to the kitchen. By the time he went back to his room, there was an army doctor curled up and fast asleep in his bed. His heart felt warm. He quickly changed himself and climbed into the other side of the bed. “Goodnight, John.”

“G’nght, Sh’lock,” came the groggy reply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft just doesn't know when to quit does he?

John woke first to sunlight pouring into the room. He felt incredibly well rested for the first time in a long time. He felt Sherlock’s back pressed tightly against his, the violinist’s fingers resting lightly on his thigh almost as if he was checking to make sure he was still there. The doctor smiled. He realized they made it through the whole night without a bad dream between them. At least not one that woke anyone screaming. He stretched and reached to check his phone that was on the night table. 

“Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed when he saw the time. 

“John! What’s wrong?” Sherlock jumped up quickly, eyes barely open, scanning John’s face for distress.

John’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, Sherlock. Everything is fine. I just saw it’s half 10. I haven’t slept this late since Uni. Just surprised me.”

Sherlock laid back down and pulled the duvet back over himself. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in about 2 years or so. It was much needed for both of us.”

John laid back as well. “I suppose you’re right. Sorry for startling you. I’m going to put on some tea, care for a cup?”

“I guess I’m up now.”

The soldier smiled sheepishly as he got out of bed. Sorry to be leaving the comfortable warmth of Sherlock but he needed the loo and now that he made a fool of himself, he figured he might as well get on with the day. He had barely turned on the kettle when he heard footsteps entering the kitchen. “That was quick, Sherlock. I woudn’t have been half surprised if you conked back out.” He turned around and it wasn’t his roommate standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, Mycroft. I see you are bugging the flat again. Care for a cuppa?”

“Yes, Dr. Watson, a cuppa would be most agreeable. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, I have something rather urgent to discuss with you.”

Sherlock, having heard his annoying brother, entered the kitchen. “Go away, brother mine. It’s far too early for your ‘matters of national importance.’” 

“I knew I should be expecting a happy announcement, took a lot longer to get there then I anticipated. Sleeping together before marriage? What would Mummy say?”

Before Sherlock could rip into his brother with his own deductions, John interrupted.  
“Alright, boys, separate corners or I’m calling Mummy. What do you want, Mycroft? I can only hold him off so long.”

“It’s about your next mission for MI6.”

John looked carefully at the older Holmes brother. “There is no next mission, Mycroft. Sherlock is home. Moran is dead. Mission over. Did something else happen?”

“Dr. Watson, you are one of the best agents MI6 has. You need to stay on. There are other world problems aside from Moriarty. Be reasonable.”

John cocked his head slightly to the side, his lips pressed together in a grim line, his eyes hard. Greater men than Mycroft Holmes had been the subject of this look and quivered. Mycroft swallowed but tried to stand his ground. 

“I told you when this all started, I have no interest in being an agent. I agreed to bring Sherlock home. And he’s standing right there. Moriarty is gone, Moran is gone, Sherlock is safe. My very brief career as a double 0 is over.”

Mycroft opened his mouth to object, this time to be cut off by Sherlock who had been standing by the window, tuning his violin. “Know when you have been beaten, brother. You know very well you will not change his mind. I’ve known John Watson long enough to know when his mind is made up.”

“Well then,” sniffed the government official. “I will be off. Good day, brother. Dr. Watson.” Mycroft turned on his heel dramatically and left the flat.

John shook his head. “I told him back when this all began I wasn’t going to be an agent once we were back home. Assuming I’m still welcome, I already have a pretty good gig as a consulting blogger.” He offered a cheeky smile to his friend.

“You can hardly blame him, John. You are one of the best. And of course you are still welcome. But for God’s sake, I don’t keep you around for your atrocious blog. You are my partner. You are as much as a consulting detective as I am. Even if my methods are superior.” Sherlock flopped himself down on the couch. “Tea, John.”

“Yes, sir.” The shorter man grumbled good naturedly. As he set about reheating the water and getting the mugs ready, he smiled to himself. Mr “I’m married to my work” just declared that he was an equal partner in the Work. Maybe there was a chance after all. 

While he could hear John knocking mugs about in the kitchen making tea, Sherlock grinned to himself. John hadn’t actually objected to Mycroft’s teasing about the happy announcement. Maybe John wasn’t quite as straight as he used to so adamantly insist.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's the normal days that change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still alive. Despite all of my best intentions, my schedule is rarely consistent. I live in the consistently inconsistent. I thank you for your patience as I do my best to keep up.

Life for the next couple weeks went on like that. John and Sherlock sharing a bed but John maintained his room with his clothes and other stuff. Nightmares weren't over and done with despite the first night of uninterrupted sleep. As John predicted, it was much easier for the men to be able to deal with the nightmares, usually by just wrapping the other in a hug and dozing back off or brief conversations without having to leave the bed. 

To the dismay of both, neither was brave enough to take that next step. Over the course of the couple of weeks, clearly a shift was made. They crowded each other's personal space with no issues, they were definitely more than friends but not quite a couple. While touching was happening more often, it was still awkward, almost as if they weren't allowed even if no objections were made on either side. They worked cases together as always, Sherlock being more considerate to John in asking his opinions and observations before he went off on his own tangents. That meant a lot to the doctor, making him feel more like a partner than just someone who was filling in for Billy the Skull. John continued to compliment Sherlock and make sure he felt appreciated for more than just being a genius. For all the work he had done for the Yard and his clients, everyone was harsh in dealing with the detective. Which he returned in kind as he felt no one respected him for anything beyond his deductions. The genius never said as much to John, but he didn't need to. John didn't know everything about Sherlock, but it was obvious he hadn't been given kind words often and that just wasn't acceptable to the soldier. 

John always thought, it there was ever a moment that anything could happen between them, it would be in a post case, adrenaline filled moment of passion. He was completely shocked that it happened on a perfectly ordinary morning, completely by accident. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was a typical morning at 221B, John woke first, stumbled to the kitchen to turn on the kettle for tea. He decided to take a quick shower while the kettle was boiling to help wake him up and get ready for the day. They didn't have a case on but he knew there could be a call from Lestrade at any moment. He was very efficient in the shower, soaping up and washing his hair in just a few moments. As he was toweling himself off, he heard the kettle start to whistle. Even though Sherlock usually could sleep through an atomic bomb being dropped, John was trying to be considerate as it had been a long night. John had the dream about Sherlock's fall again. Even though waking up and seeing Sherlock helped immensely, his mind wouldn't stop racing. He turned to grab his robe off the door and realized he had forgotten it. It was a silly thing but he had started to feel a bit self-conscious about his appearance as he got older. While he was still really fit, he had not been kind to his body. He was more covered in scars than he really cared to see himself, let alone inflict on anyone else. Several from his time in the military but many more from his work with Sherlock and his time abroad keeping his detective safe. Even all the women he had been with before the fall never really seemed to notice or comment if they had about his scars; the lights usually off in those instances. John shrugged, figuring Sherlock was still asleep and he could turn off the pot and pour the tea too steep while he got dressed, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen. 

Sherlock woke up when John got out of bed but had hoped to doze back off. As usual, not having John close made it impossible for him to fall back to sleep. He pulled the duvet tight around him as he listened to John go about his normal routine. As much as he thrived off of chaos, he craved this normalcy, and was scared he would never have it again. The detective heard the kettle start to whistle but John was still in the bathroom. He decided to be helpful for a change and go get the kettle so John could get dressed. Just as he was about to get up, his cellphone pinged. It was Lestrade asking for clarification on a recent case. The detective sent off a quick text and headed to the kitchen. 

John had already gotten to the kitchen and poured the water. As he turned to walk out of the kitchen, he walked straight into a yawning Sherlock who clearly wasn't expecting a short army doctor in his path. John instinctively raised his hands to brace himself and they landed on Sherlock's chest, as Sherlock wrapped his arms around John as he stumbled. First thing Sherlock processed was that his hands were on John's bare skin which he also wasn't expecting. He leaned back slightly and realized he was holding an almost completely naked blogger. Their eyes met a split second later. 

Everything stopped for the men as realization dawned on both of them. Not a word was said but they read everything in each other's eyes and faces. One of John's hands reached up and gently, almost hesitatingly, cupped Sherlock's cheek, running a thumb along those ridiculous cheekbones. The detective leaned his head into the touch. At the same time, he ran his hand up John's back and rested just behind his neck while he adjusted his other arm to be properly wrapped around his waist, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in all the world. Finally, after years of denying their feelings, dying, coming back, escapades all over the world kept secret from each other, and their enemies finally slain, their lips met for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will feature some fluff with a heavy dash of smut. I'll mark accordingly where the smut will begin and end if that's not your bag and you don't want to read it.


End file.
